


Unmasked

by exbex



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:05:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7621300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/pseuds/exbex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <strong>Prompt:</strong>
</p><p>Fraser and one or both Rays are confronted with a strip show (in the line of duty, at a party, whatever context).  Ray(s) expects Fraser to be embarrassed by this, but Fraser is in unflappable mode, chatting with the strippers and/or questioning them (if the context is an investigation of some sort) as though they're not half-naked and offering him a lap-dance.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Unmasked

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [DesireeArmfeldt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt) in the [DS_C6D_Prompt_Meme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DS_C6D_Prompt_Meme) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Fraser and one or both Rays are confronted with a strip show (in the line of duty, at a party, whatever context). Ray(s) expects Fraser to be embarrassed by this, but Fraser is in unflappable mode, chatting with the strippers and/or questioning them (if the context is an investigation of some sort) as though they're not half-naked and offering him a lap-dance.

Ray has spent a lot of time not understanding Fraser, and usually, that’s okay. Fraser’s weird, sure, but he’s not the bad kind of weird. He’s somewhere between quirky and eccentric on the weird scale, but it’s not important. He’s a really good guy and a great partner, and that’s all that really matters.  
At the moment though, Ray is so weirded out that he can’t deal with it. Fraser is completely unfazed by beautiful women wearing next to nothing, smiling flirtatiously at him and offering him lap dances. Say what you want about Fraser, but he’s not cold and he’s not a robot. He keeps his cool and he doesn’t emote all over the place, but the guy is still human.

Ray’s not sure why it bothers him so much. Fraser treats everyone just the same, it’s one of the things that makes Frase, Frase. But Ray expected a blush, at least, maybe that weird thing where he rubs at his eyebrow, an averting of his eyes. But he just looks the strippers in the face and smiles, not flirtatiously or abashedly, but with just good old Canadian politeness, as if he’s talking to little old ladies.

It takes Ray two whole days to bring it up, but he finally figures it’s dumb not to. Because one of the things about Fraser is that he’s not easily offended. He’s got a moral code that’s about as hard as diamonds, and he’s pretty straitlaced in general, but he doesn’t get offended at honest questions.

“I don’t care for it. Exotic dancing, that is.”

Ray’s face must contort in confusion or something, because Fraser quickly elaborates. “When I say I don’t approve of it, I mean that it bothers me. Not the fact that they’re taking their clothes off to make money. Well, I suppose it is that. But I’m not judging them, Ray. That’s not what it’s about.” Fraser leans back, letting his back press up against the padded booth, and somehow, he looks even more incongruous in this greasy spoon than he usually does, his perfectly pressed uniform a stark contrast to the cracked vinyl and the dull table-top. He presses his lips together and Ray’s glance flickers to the way he’s crumpling his napkin, absentmindedly gripping and releasing it three times before setting it aside. He looks directly at Ray and his shoulders slump a little, though not as if in defeat. It’s more like he’s letting his guard down. Ray leans forward, just a little, turning his fork over slowly, again and again.

“It’s a complete fraud, Ray. It’s not like a performance, but a façade. Everyone knows that it’s a façade, but no one cares. There’s an agreement, I suppose, to buy and sell a fantasy. And I don’t begrudge anyone, for seeking it out, or selling it, but I….” Fraser lets out a breath, slowly, and Ray blinks; he hadn’t realized that Fraser was holding it. “I just don’t think anyone should really be asked to pretend, when it comes to desire. I understand why it exists, but…I don’t want to participate in it.” His smile is sad then. “Maybe that makes me hopelessly old-fashioned, quaint.”

Ray shakes his head, vehemently. “No, no. It makes sense Frase. I mean, you’re still a freak, but not because of this.”

Fraser laughs, just a little, and the silence that ensues is comfortable.

Later, Ray is still thinking about it, and about Fraser laying on his Spartan cot, shoved into the corner of his office, miles and miles away from home.


End file.
